


Autumn Tale

by RosiePaw



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 09:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12363138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosiePaw/pseuds/RosiePaw
Summary: Once upon a time on a fine autumn day, a young king expressed a desire to go riding in the forest...





	Autumn Tale

Once upon a time on a fine autumn day, a young king expressed a desire to go riding in the forest.  His advisors were dubious.

“Sire, your word is law, but tonight the walls between the worlds will be thin.  It is not a night to go abroad.”

“Did we say anything of the night?” replied the king.  “We will go riding in the forest with a company of our friends and be back at the castle before dusk for a feast.”

So he said and the first part of what he said, he did.  Indeed he did gather together his companions and go riding in the forest.  But the forest was old and thick, and it happened that young king became separated from his companions.  First dusk and then darkness found him leading his horse among the trees, not knowing where to turn.

Finally he spied a flickering light, which led him to a bothy.  He smelled wood smoke coming from the chimney and when he knocked at the door, it was opened by a young woman with moon-pale hair and changeable eyes.

“Fair lady,” said the young king – and he did not say so in courtesy only, for she had the bearing a lady and was indeed comely to look at – “I will not disturb you further, but only set me on the path to the castle and I will be gone.”

“You are farther from your castle than you think, and it is not a night to go wandering the forest.  Stay the night with me and before dawn, I will set you on your path.”

So he stayed the night with her in the bothy.  Never had the king held conversation with someone so gifted in both knowledge and wit.  Never had a night gone by so quickly.  Far sooner than he was ready to leave she rose, drawing a dark, hooded cloak about her, and went to the door.

“It is nearly dawn.  Come now and I will set you on your path, that you may return to the forest you know and hence to your castle.” 

“Fair lady, come with me and be my queen.  Or if you like better, I will accompany you to ask your father for your hand.”

“Where I go, you can not follow.  But return to your castle and look for me on May Eve.”

She set him on his path and having done so, turned and vanished among the trees.  He rode along the path she had shown him.  Before dawn, he found himself among trees he recognized and heard the calls of his friends and servants, who had come out to look for him.

***

The wheel of the year turned and winter came.  The snow fell thickly and was drifted by the wind into fantastical shapes.  But the year wheel went on turning, as it always does, and eventually it brought the spring.

On May Eve two riders were seen approaching the castle, riding white horses with shining black hooves and red ears.  The king did not send his steward but went himself to meet them at the gate.  His heart misgave him when they dismounted and pushed back the hoods of their cloaks, for one was the pale-haired lady he’d met in the bothy and the other was a man, tall and well-made, with a pale face and dark curls that caught red flashes from the light of the torches.

But the lady and smiled and embraced the king, who did not hesitate to return her embrace.  Then she turned to the dark-haired man and said, “Brother, this is the one.”

The king saw then that the man’s eyes were as changeable as the lady’s, and he felt a bit of a fool for his misgivings.  The lady saw this and said to him in a low voice, “I forgive you.  It has been a long six months.”

Her brother, however, frowned at them both.  “You will do what you will,” he told his sister, “And I have no power to stop you, but no good will come of this.  I speak from sure knowledge.”

“As do I,” she replied.  “This is the man I will have.”

The dark-haired man sighed then, embraced his sister and clasped hands with the king as one of equal stature, which caused some murmuring among the courtiers.  Then he mounted again and rode away.

The king and his lady were wed the next day.

***

The courtiers murmured some more when it became apparent that the young queen had not the custom of remaining at home, but rather would go wandering the forest and fields.  When her attendants tried to persuade her to rest at home, she merely replied that if they did not wish to accompany her, they did not have to.  And indeed, only the hardiest riders could keep up with her.

Even when it became clear that she was with child, she continued to roam.  Thus it happened that she gave birth not in the castle but in a small field by the mouth of a stream.

Again the courtiers murmured.  Some said that because the queen had not born a child before, her labour took her by surprise.  Others said that the time and place of the birth had been of her choosing.  But the king laughed and rode out with a litter to bring his wife and heir home, saying that the boy should be named Mycroft for his birthplace.

Young Mycroft grew to be a tall, sturdy boy with dark red hair, fiercely intelligent and very serious.  He had no interest in playing with other children but would rather be at his father’s side in council, where he spoke not but listened to everything that was said.  Afterwards he would ask his father why this decision had been made in such a way and that one in some different way, seeking always to understand and learn.  The king was well pleased with his heir’s taste for government. 

When Mycroft was five years of age, the king’s advisors spoke to him.  “Your Majesty, Prince Mycroft is a fine lad and we all pray for his continued health, but Dame Fortune will do what she will and no one can predict or stop her actions.  Would it not be prudent to have a second child?”

The king said nothing to his advisors but discussed the matter with his wife.  Before another year had a passed, a girl child had been born to the couple, on a rainy day when an east wind beat hard against the castle windows.  Thus she was named Eurus.

Eurus was dark-haired, as quiet and serious as Mycroft and even more intelligent.  The queen quickly saw that unlike Mycroft, Eurus had also been gifted with the magic that was her own people’s inheritance.  Magic can be a tool or it can be a weapon, and it is at its most dangerous in the hands of an untaught user.  So even before Eurus was weaned, the queen began teaching her how to shape and control her magic, that it would not control her instead.

Two more years went by and the royal couple had a third child, another son.  He was born with his mother’s changeable eyes and a fuzz of bright red hair on his head, so his parents named him Sherlock.  But in this he was misnamed, for the fuzz soon fell out and when his hair grew back in, it was dark.

Now it happened that one afternoon, the queen was in her solar nursing young Sherlock, with Eurus sitting by watching.  Sherlock’s dark curls caught red flashes from the sunlight, and the queen smiled, remembering her brother.  Then the king entered, and he too smiled to see his wife and children sitting so peacefully.  And he said to the little girl, “This is your younger brother, for you to play with and care for.”

At his words the queen felt a chill run through her.  She remembered not only her brother, but her brother’s words, spoken from sure knowledge.  But she shook off her misgivings and smiled back at her husband.

Indeed, the queen’s misgivings were well-founded.  For all her intelligence, there were things Eurus did not understand, and one of them was that “your” can denote possession but it can also denote relationship.  From that day on, Eurus was Sherlock’s constant companion, even insisting that he be present during her lessons with the queen.  Thus the queen discovered that Sherlock himself had some minor gift for magic, although nothing as strong as Eurus’.

One night, the royal nurses heard the baby screaming.  When they went running in, Eurus was at his side, watching him scream and smiling.  Asked what she was doing, she replied, “Why, I’m making him laugh!  Don’t you hear him laughing?”

After this the queen tried more diligently to separate them, tempting Eurus away with ever more challenging lessons, some perhaps not yet appropriate to Eurus’ young age.  Still Eurus would not be deterred.  She frowned so fiercely that her mother feared that she would harm the baby rather than be separated from him, so the queen desisted.

***

Sherlock was the least intelligent of the three children, although still far more intelligent than most people. Unlike his two older siblings, he shared his parents’ love of the out-of-doors.  The king determined that his youngest son should have a companion to go roaming with, so he arranged for the fosterage of the son of one of the border lords, a man known for his loyalty.

Victor – for this was the son’s name – was all of seven months older than Sherlock, shorter but with a sturdier build and bright red hair.  The courtiers smiled to see the two young boys larking about together, pretending to be bandits and even pirates, such as they had heard of from a travelling minstrel (for the kingdom was landlocked and had no seaport).

Eurus, however, was jealous and angry.  “Her” baby brother, whom she had sung to and told stories to and (unsuccessfully) tried to teach minor spells now spent all his time with his new friend.  They allowed her no part in their games, which at any rate she found tedious.  Likewise, Victor was not one to sit still listening to a girl’s stories.

As foster brothers, Sherlock and Victor shared a bed chamber.  One night Sherlock was awakened by a strange tingling feeling that spread all over his skin.  He sat up to see Eurus standing by the bed at Victor’s side.  Victor, like the servants and guards, still lay sound asleep.

Eurus smiled.  “You have just enough magic in you to defy my charms, little brother.  You should be asleep as well.”

“Don’t hurt him.  He’s not done anything against you.”

Eurus’ smile grew wider.  “Has he not?  He has taken what’s mine.”

She pulled a small knife out from her skirts.

“As you love me, sister, do not take him from me,” Sherlock pled.  “I’ll spend as much time with you as I spend with him, I promise.  But only do not take him from me.” 

Eurus considered this, then reached out for Victor, still holding the knife.  She evaded Sherlock’s grasp when he would have stopped her – and cut a lock of hair from Victor’s head, no more.

“Your bargain is accepted, little brother.  See that you hold to it.”  With that, she left.

In the morning, Sherlock wasn’t sure but that he’d dreamed the whole thing.  Still, from that day forward it was notable that he spent as much time in his sister’s company as in Victor’s, often leaving Victor to roam about alone.  The king and queen wondered at this, but both Sherlock and Victor swore they had not quarreled.

Some months later, the king gifted Mycroft with his first horse and decided that to celebrate, the entire royal family and court should ride out hunting.  The autumn day dawned bright and fine.  Sherlock and Victor, mounted on ponies befitting their age, could scarcely contain their excitement.  Eurus glowered from atop her own pony, while Mycroft hid his own boredom with politic smiles.

Later on no one could say exactly how it came to pass that young Victor became separated from the rest of the party.  His pony returned unharmed but riderless.  Following it was a beautiful dog no one had seen before, with long, red fur as bright as the autumn foliage.  As bright as Victor’s hair.

The dog immediately ran up to Sherlock, barking and whining.  When it jumped up on the boy and licked his face, the master of hounds moved to beat it back.  But Sherlock cried out and embraced the dog, and the king nodded to the master of hounds to desist.

For many days after, the courtiers and even the king and the two princes rode out to search the forest for Victor’s body.  In her chambers, the queen scried to see where he might lie, whether alive or dead.  Yet all she had for her efforts was an impenetrable grey mist – and when she scried to see whence the strange dog might have come, the same mist.  Then she knew that her daughter’s powers had grown stronger than her own, and she was truly afraid.

It was not long after this that the queen rode out on an autumn afternoon.  Eurus rode with her.  Some wondered at this, for it was not Eurus’ habit to ride for pleasure.  Others wondered that the king would let his wife and daughter ride out on that particular day, the day before the night when the walls between the worlds would be thin.

But the queen had told Eurus that she still had one lesson left to teach her and that after this lesson, Eurus would know everything her mother knew about magic.  Tempted, Eurus went willingly.

As for the king, whatever his wife had told or not told him in their bed was to remain a secret they held between them.

The servants who rode with the queen and princess returned shortly before dusk, leading the women’s riderless horses.  The party had become separated in the forest.  One of the servants had found the horses in a clearing, winded and all scratched with brambles but otherwise unhurt.

The search party that rode out the next day at dawn met the queen stumbling home, her riding habit rent with scratches and stained with blood.  When asked about Eurus, she burst into tears and would not speak.  The princess’ body was never found.

The story went about that the two women had been set on by wolves, who had killed and devoured the princess.  But young Sherlock said to his dog that it was curious thing that two such powerful magicians had not been able to handle a few wolves.

The dog, whom Sherlock had named Redbeard, barked and wagged his tail.

***

After this Sherlock and Redbeard were as constant companions as Sherlock and Victor had once been, even playing all the same games together.  Redbeard slept on the prince’s bed at night.  The courtiers and servants remarked both on the dog’s intelligence, beauty and loyalty to Sherlock and on Sherlock’s deep affection for the dog.

But the wheel of the years kept turning, and one year to a young lad is as seven years to a dog.  Even as Redbeard’s muzzle became peppered with white, the dog retained his vigour.  Then in the winter of Sherlock’s fourteenth year, Redbeard suddenly lost interest both in his food and in play.  His coat lost its shine, and his ribs stuck out.  He spent the days sleeping by the fire.  Often Sherlock would lie next to him, stroking his dulled coat.  When Redbeard woke, he would whine and lick the prince’s face.  If he licked away salt tears, none could tell. 

At night, Redbeard could no longer jump up upon the prince’s bed.  With his own hands, Sherlock built Redbeard a step of wooden steps that he might go up and down.

Sherlock pled with his mother to do something to save Redbeard, but she shook her head, saying that magic has its own laws – and so do birth and death.

On the night of the last day of winter, Redbeard died.

Sherlock was inconsolable, so much so that Mycroft took him aside, saying, “Brother, it is not seemly to be seen to grieve so much for a dog.”

“Piss on ‘seemly’!  You do not know what he truly was!” snarled Sherlock through his tears.

“I may not have magic, brother,” Mycroft retorted, “But I have eyes to see and a mind to reason with.  I know who Redbeard was – but others do not.  They see you mourning a dog as a lost foster-brother.  And in either case, caring is not an advantage.”

From that day on, there was coldness between Sherlock and Mycroft.

The wheel of the year turned, bringing first spring, then summer, then autumn.  One autumn afternoon, Sherlock rode into the forest, ignoring the warnings of those who reminded him that it was the day before the night when the walls between the worlds would be thin.  He was a young boy no longer but rather had grown to be a thin and gawky youth.

When dusk came, he did not turn for home.  When darkness fell, he dismounted and led his horse.  And when he came to a deserted bothy, he tethered his horse, entered and got a fire going in the fireplace.

He had little magic, but he did have some and magic or no, blood calls to blood.  He had not waited long when there was a knock at the door.

Sherlock opened it to find himself facing a tall man with his own long, pale face, his own changeable eyes, his own dark curls flashing red where they caught the firelight.  “Uncle,” he said, and the tall man nodded.  “I want to see her.”

“That can not be allowed, but I am willing to carry a message.”

“Then remind her that she promised that he would not be taken from me.”

“I will, and I will return before dawn with her answer.  Wait here.  If you try to follow me, you will have no answer at all.  Do you understand?”

Sherlock nodded, and the man vanished into the forest.  Before dawn he returned with a rolled-up parchment.  He set Sherlock upon the path home and bade him leave immediately.

Sherlock rode along the path until he once again recognized the trees around him.  Then he stopped and unrolled the parchment.

It read only this: “I did not take him from you, brother.  I arranged for time to do that for me.”

There was no signature.


End file.
